


It's a Mess (Dinner)

by AlyssiaInWonderland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Dresses, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Makeup, Mess Dinner on the Enterprise, Suits, They are all absolute darlings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they get to dress up and dance all night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:19:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/AlyssiaInWonderland
Summary: The crew of the Enterprise need a break, but they can't make it planet-side. Cue Jim and Spock organising a Mess Dinner and dance evening for the crew, with Bones refusing to play along! Spock, for some reason, is disappointed by this.Or, they all have an excuse to have fun, eat good food and spend time ballroom dancing - except Bones doesn't seem to want to come. Will he go to the ball? And why, in all honestly, was Spock so disappointed?





	It's a Mess (Dinner)

“I’m tellin’ you, Jim, the crew needs some time off!” Bones glared at his friend, gesturing intensely with his hands as they walked out of Sickbay.

“And I’m telling you, Bones, I know. But we don’t have time! Starfleet Command wants us in space; not on some planet!” Jim sighed.

“Well, you better find a way to help us relax without going planet-side, or you’re gonna have a crew of damn automatons!”

“I see the Doctor is, as ever, emotionally overwrought, Captain?” Spock fell into step beside them.

“Not that becoming an automaton would make much of a difference in your case, would it, Spock?” Bones couldn’t resist the opportunity to needle him.

“You are most kind to say so, Doctor.” Spock responded, composedly, making Jim grin and Bones roll his eyes. “However, in this instance, I do believe him to be essentially correct.”  
  
“You what, now?” Bones drawled, torn so thoroughly between shock and pleasure that his expression came across as almost horrified.

“How do you suggest I fix that? Ideas, Mr. Spock? We are on a spaceship, my friends. It’s not like on shore leave!” Jim turned to look at Spock.

“Perhaps we could indulge in an activity that would function just as well on the ship as off. I believe that humans often enjoy engaging in an evening of formally-attired food, drinking and dancing?” Spock’s eyes were glittering with mischief, for all that he claimed to lack emotion.

“Hm. You might be onto something! Yes, we could do it - a black-tie night to remember! What do you think, Doctor?” Jim grinned at Bones, wide and as winningly as he knew how.

“I can’t believe it was Spock who came up with this damn-fool idea!” He paused. “Just how exactly is an endeavour like this _logical_?”

“When it is required to increase the welfare, and therefore the efficiency, of the crew, back to optimal figures.” Spock answered smartly, amusement flickering tauntingly behind his stony façade, broken only by a lightly raised eyebrow.

“Jim? I’m begging you, pick something else! Anything – hell, send us out for a recreational spacewalk, or another sports day, just-“  
  
“Bones, I thought you said, and I quote, ‘no sports days ever, ever, ever again, dammit, Sickbay was packed with idiots!’?”  
  
“I know what I said!” He paused. “Maybe not a sports day. But really, Jim? A black tie dinner? Don’t you think you have enough on your plate already? And speaking of plates, how can we have a decent meal all from replicator food?”

“I have recently concluded and experiment in the labs, leaving me with unnecessary free time. I could consult with Scotty to solve the replicator issue, and recruit some other officers to organise the event, Captain.” Spock offered, his voice as implacable as ever.

“That sounds brilliant, Spock! Really!” Jim patted him on the arm gratefully. “Thanks for doing this. I know it seems illogical, but I think it will help. Oh, and ask Uhura to help you out too Mr. Spock. I’m sure she would sing, and she would love to dress us up!”

“Certainly, Captain. In that case, I shall divert to Engineering.” Spock nodded, and strode off down the corridor, leaving Jim and Bones in the metaphorical dust.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say the man was excited.” Bones commented, mystified by his actions.

“Stock up on blister plasters, Bones. Sickbay may fill up yet.” Jim grinned, and turned to enter his quarters.  
  
“I hate you, Jim!” Bones called after his retreating back.

 

* * *

 

The entire ship seemed to be gripped with anticipation for the Mess Dinner. Nyota had formed a small band, and had enlisted Janice, Kevin Riley, and several other ensigns. Between Rand’s impeccable organisational skills, and Nyota’s warm encouragement, they met daily in the weeks leading up to the main event. Chekov caught Scotty hiding in a maintenance shaft, listening to the music and attempting to dance. The confined space and the surprise of being found landed him in Sickbay, but even Bones’ dire warnings of sprains and bruises could not dampen the crew’s morale.

 

“See, Bones? You don’t need to worry at all! It’s a holiday already, everyone’s relaxed!” Jim grinned. “Except one stubborn man.”  
  
“Scotty managed to injure himself when dancin’ alone.” Bones answered, darkly. “Just imagine what this lot’ll cook up on a packed dance floor!”

“I think I have the solution now. Dancing lessons.” Jim pressed in the code for a ship-wide announcement. “Tonight, at the end of alpha, there will be a dance class. All abilities are welcome. Be prepared for the Dinner!”

“What in the hell d’you think you’re doin’? Who exactly is gonna teach that class, Jim? You got a flamenco instructor up your sleeve?”

“No. But I happen to excel at ballroom dancing.”

“Huh.” Bones watching Jim walk off in silent confusion. Now that he thought about it, Jim did walk with something of a strut.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sulu and the Captain made a fetching pair, at the class last night, don’t you think, Spock?” Nyota smiled at the memory, already plucking a tune form her mind that would suit the tempo and mood of their foxtrot.

“Indeed. Though, I am somewhat concerned by the lack of clothing outside of uniforms.” Spock said. “I believe a large portion of the enjoyment comes from wearing items outside of the usual bounds of your wardrobe.”  
  
“That’s right, Mr. Spock.” Nyota looked delighted that he had caught on to this fact. “Well, how about this. If I help everyone with their outfits – would you show them how to at least do your eyeshadow? I have always noticed that it’s particularly flattering.”  
  
“Thank you, Miss. Uhura.” Spock allowed himself a slight smile at the compliment. “I am not accustomed to discussing such things.” He saw her face fall, and hastily added, “However, I am sure that I could become so.”  
  
“That’s wonderful!” Nyota brushed her hand lightly across the soft fabric of the uniform on his arm, in thanks and appreciation. “I’ll ask Janice to spread the word.”

  

With Nyota and Spock spending all their off-duty hours outfitting almost the entire crew, and the band practises growing ever smoother, excitement was building. Scotty could occasionally be seen in a cordoned-off section of the dining hall, cursing and hammering at the replicators as he wrested delicious-smelling food from them and shoved taste-tests at any fortunate – or unfortunate – enough to be nearby. Sulu even grew some choice flowers for the table decorations – though he drew the line at snipping them, deciding instead to provide a live plant for each table. Chekov, under strict guidance from Janice, catalogued attendance, and created a set of dance cards, for people to book dances with the senior officers. He charmed his way through booking out all the available slots, until only Bones and Chapel were left as senior members without a single entry – or in fact a dance card.

 

“You do not intend to attend the Mess Dinner, Doctor?” Spock enquired, his voice sharper than his usual neutral tone.

“Damn right, I don’t. It’s one thing for the rest of the crew, hell, I’m glad they get to relax. But I ain’t gonna waste my time partyin’, especially when like as not some fools will end up in here in any case.” He groused.

“And yourself, Miss Chapel?” Spock asked, raising an eyebrow neatly and making her blush a soft pink.

“I’m sorry, Commander. It’s like the Doctor says. We need to be here. M’Benga wants to go to the dinner, besides, and we need at least a skeleton crew.” She explained, soothingly.  
  
“Very well.” Spock spoke stiffly, almost as if he were disappointed.

 

* * *

 

The much anticipated night of the Mess Dinner had finally arrived. Nyota carefully spun Janice in a circle, to approve the final look before letting her go to the front to organise and introduce along with Jim. Her rich, deep blue satin slip-dress matched the tone of Jim’s navy suit; the silver accents in her outfit matching his light grey shirt. Spock leaned in to touch up the line of purple-blue eyeliner that Jim had been pestered into wearing, then turning to check the silvery-blue eyeshadow on Janice.

“You two can stop fussing, now. We both look gorgeous; thanks to you and your miracles!”  
  
“Yourself and Miss. Rand are both exceptionally beautiful. However, I suggest you hurry to begin the dinner.” Spock put away his brushes into Nyota’s large, golden purse.

“This way, Captain!” Janice took Jim’s arm and subtly guided them up to the main table.  
  
“Janice, I said to call me Jim! We are off-duty!”  
  
“Maybe, but we _are_ on a schedule!” She retorted, kissing him lightly on the cheek to soften her words. “Now, stand up, introduce me, and shut up!”  
  
“I see how it is, Yeoman Rand!” Jim laughed, and stood, letting silence fall as people pulled themselves into attentiveness. “All. Welcome to our Mess Dinner! It is the first of its kind on the Enterprise and so, to many more!” He raised his glass in a toast, which was returned, and then he sat, gesturing to Janice.

“Welcome! I will be brief; I am certain everyone is eager to trail the results of Mr. Scott’s labours with the replicators!” She paused for the small bubble of laughter that followed. “After dinner, the tables will be moved aside, and this area will become a dance floor. After a little background music, to warm up the wonderful band, there will be an opening set dance, by some of our own! In total, there are three dances already set throughout the evening, and if anyone would like to book a set dance to display the fine training the Captain gave us all, feel absolutely free. The set dances will be announced, to give you all time to clear the dance floor. The bar is, as ever, open for the first three drinks, after which you must use your allowances. Roll call tomorrow will be at the same time as usual. And finally, to those of you who will be missing sections of this evening to maintain the skeleton crew, thank you for your volunteering. It is with you, and the other volunteers to wait on us, man the bar, and play music, that this is possible for everyone else. You have been allotted an extra half-day on the next available shore leave, as thanks. Enjoy!” Janice sat down, to a quiet round of applause, and the dinner began.

 

“It’s a crying shame that I won’t be around for your dance, Nyota.” M’Benga said, regretfully. “You and Spock look gorgeous, just like the rest of your handiwork!” He nodded to the rest of the crew.

“Thank you.” Nyota said, smiling. She was pleased with the complimentary outfits they wore; Spock with his deep brown suit, cream-gold shirt and red accents, and her in a red dress with gold accenting. Then the deeper meaning of his sentence sank in, and she frowned, opening her mouth, but Spock beat her to it.  
  
“Why would you not be able to attend the dance, Doctor?” Spock asked.  
  
“Well,” M’Benga began, but just then Janice stood and rang for attention, asking everyone to make way to clear the dance floor.  
  
“I’m afraid that is my cue, gentlemen. Walk me to the stage, Spock?”

“Certainly.” Spock held out an arm, and led her away, M’Benga’s words entirely forgotten. “Do you know what the first dance is, Nyota? I find myself most curious.”  
  
“I know the music, that’s all though. Sorry, Spock, I have to go, Janice looks like she will behead me if I’m late!” Nyota gracefully ascended the stage, and Spock moved to the side, standing by Jim as he waited for Janice.  
  
“The opening dance, is an American Smooth, to ‘Fly Me To The Moon’, sung and performed by our very own Nyota Uhura, and crew!” Janice announced, handing over the microphone and stepping down the stage herself.

 

* * *

 

 

The crowd hushed, the lights dimmed, and, in absence of any cue otherwise, the band began to play.

As the first notes sounded, the doors to the Mess Hall opened, and in walked Bones and Chapel. Their hands were held delicately on top of each other, Christine in a floaty pale blue dress, a stunning pink in jewels at her throat and on her lips. Bones’ lips almost matched her shade, his shirt a more lavender version of her own. His tie was a deeper lavender, and his suit was as chocolate-dark as Spock’s. They glided to the centre of the dance floor, meeting in the beginning pose just as Nyota began to sing.

For all his professed reluctance, together, they flowed from step to step, making the gentle sway look effortless. She span out and back in, their hands meeting once more and falling straight back into the pattern of the dance. It seemed perfectly natural as Christine flitted up the steps of the raised stage, pecking Nyota gently on the cheek, and waiting for the perfect swell of chords and voice to leap into Bones’ ready, strong arms, spinning her around before setting her on her feet for the final pose. As the music ended, they relaxed, moving apart a little and laughing, Bones’ face lit up with joy as he bounced once, twice on the balls of his feet, flushing in pleasure at the tumultuous applause.

 

“Did you know about this, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked.  
  
“I…did not, Cap- Jim.” Spock stared, as Bones approached them, Christine rushing happily over to greet Janice.  
  
“Good to see y’all!” Bones grinned, unable to conceal his laughter. “Nice to know I can even fool a Vulcan!”

“I can’t believe you did that, Bones! You really had me going for a while there, you know. I thought you hated this!” Jim grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I hail from Georgia, Jim. We know how to look after ourselves at a shindig. Besides,” He winked at Spock. “I couldn’t miss the chance to mess with this scientific idiot!”  
  
“Doctor, if that was an attempt at a pun, it was exceedingly ill-advised.” Spock managed to recover himself enough to come across as disdainful.

“Ah, he’s back. Nice to see you, too Spock.” Bones said, cheerfully. “Are you gonna be delightin’ us with your dancing?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Bones. Spock and Nyota go later. Miss Rand and I have a quickstep to Mr. Blue Sky!” Jim pulled out his dance card, peering at it carefully. “But first I have to dance with as many people as I can, you got that?!” He marched into the crowd to locate his first dance of the night.

“Well?” Bones asked.

“Nyota and I shall perform a waltz, set to ‘Que sera sera’. The song is, I believe, French. However, it would be difficult, I believe, to best your own performance.”  
  
“Well damn,” Bones said, “Careful there, Spock, or it’ll sound like a compliment!”  
  
“It sounded precisely how I intended it, Doctor.” Spock responded, with a calm dignity that he did not feel. “I am unconvinced that it would be possible to outperform your American Smooth.”  
  
“Well then, I guess I’ll have to prove you wrong.” Bones’ eyes twinkled, as he bounced gently on the balls of his feet again.  
  
“It would be in character for you to attempt to do so, certainly.” Spock’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Well then. You got a free slot in that dance card of yours?”  
  
“I have two dances after my dance with Nyota, and then I am free for the evening. I fail to see the relevance of this data.”  
  
“I reckon we should try and prove you wrong. Together. How about it?” Bones stepped into Spock’s personal space, tilting his head up and meeting his eyes, vibrant blue to rich, earthy brown.

“I am unconvinced.”  
  
“C’mon, Spock. I saw you at Jim’s training session. You’re good at dancin’. Then again, maybe you’re just scared you won’t be able to beat me.” He challenged.  
  
“I do not feel fear.” Spock’s lips tightened tellingly.  
  
“I don’t believe you. But I might, if ya dance with me. Fourth dance slot. Don’t leave me hangin’.” Bones’ body tilted in for one long, dangerous moment where their faces were so close he could make out the golden shimmer across Spock’s eyelids. Then he retreated. “Better let you have your dance card. See ya then, darlin’.”  
  
He vanished before Spock could object to the endearment.

 

* * *

 

 

Jim and Janice’s quickstep was a resounding success, leaving them both heaving in deep breaths on the side of the dance floor. Spock brought them each glasses of ice-water, and Bones brought them gin and tonics. Spock refused to drink any chocolate, at least until his dance with Nyota was completed, and would limit himself strictly until the dance he had somehow ended up planning with Bones was done. He did not believe it would be a success, but he had no desire to actively aid in their failure.

 

“I hear you’re doing a dance with Leonard, later this evening.” Nyota said, having handed over singing to an Ensign named Martha. “I’m sure it will go wonderfully!”  
  
“I am doubtful of the veracity of your statement, but the sentiment is appreciated.”

“Well, stop looking so regretful! If it goes well, you’ll be admired, and if it doesn’t, then people will warm to you for failing. You can’t lose, trust me.” Nyota advised.

“While it is logical, it is not comforting to know this.”

“At least we both know our waltz well.” They chatted for a while, occasionally moving off to meet a dance card obligation.

 

The dance floor cleared for their dance to ‘Que sera sera’. The swirling movements of a waltz meshed perfectly with the dreamlike quality to the song, their outfits painting a trail or swirling red roses in their wake. Afterwards, he accepted Jim’s offer of a hot chocolate, and, bolstered by its impact on his inhibitions, managed to finally get Nyota to ask Christine to dance. He heard Janice come up behind him, and he turned smoothly, reaction speed not yet impaired.  
  
“I have to say, Spock, I’m impressed. I’ve been trying to get those two to actually ask each other out for months!”  
  
“They are just dancing.” Spock pointed out.  
  
“True. But if there is something there, the dancing will spark it to life. Guaranteed.” Janice smiled, and patted him lightly on the arm, before wandering off, presumably to dance or oversee some finer detail of the event. He wasn’t entirely sure why her statement made him so uneasy.

 

* * *

 

 

Bones, Spock was surprised to note, had not drunk more than a single drink either. He knew this, because he was taking in his alcohol consumption as a party solely interested in not humiliating himself on the dance floor. It was almost time for their dance, and he was tense with anticipation. Finally, Bones walked over to meet him.

“Feelin’ alright there?”  
  
“I am quite well, Doctor.”

“Spock, we’re about to dance together. I reckon you can call me Leonard.” Bones smiled.  
  
“What dance are you suggesting we improvise?” Spock asked, his mind running through various forms.

“Tango. Seemed like a good fit.”

“Indeed, Doc- Leonard.” Spock held out his arm as the floor began to clear. “Shall we?”  
  
“After you, darlin’.” Bones – Leonard – took his arm and guided Spock just ahead of him, to the centre of the floor.

 

Silence fell, and the beat began.  
  
“So, I’m leadin’, right?” Bones took Spock’s waist and hand, and started their movements.  
  
“No, I am.” Spock span himself out of the hold, and pulled Bones in to it, dipping him and pulling him into his hold as he set him up right again. They moved back the way they had come, steps in perfect time.

“Well, I chose the dance! And the music!” Bones led them to a halt, and they snapped to poise, as Bones took over again, racing them across the floor in time to the music.

“No lyrics?” Spock asked, spinning them once more and pulling back the lead.

“Roundtable Rival, Lindsey Stirling. Appropriate, right?” Bones grinned, smoothly transitioning into leading again. “Sometimes, words get in the way of the feelin’ of the dance.”

“Very little could crush your emotions, Leonard.” Spock switched the hold, gripping Leonard’s waist and sliding his hand down his outstretched arm to reach his hand, striking back into the right posture with the stamp of their feet.

 

This close to each other, he could see easily the pink tint on Leonard’s lips, feel instinctually the way they worked together to predict each other’s movements, Leonard now following him easily, despite his touch-telepathy linking in the opposite direction. Spock fell silent, their usual debates fading as they followed the ebb and flow, the beat. The tango suited them, all conflict and resolution, sharp and fast, with moments of tenderness that felt almost wild, Leonard’s face just inches from his own.

He could not admit it to himself, but he could sense the emotional arc of the music drawing to a close. Perhaps it was through his connection to Leonard, who obviously knew the song. He let Leonard spin out, in time to tug him back in, to one last dip, leaning over, their bodies held together at balance points, and by the thin layer of warm air between them. Leonard looked up at Spock, licked his lips, held up entirely by Spock’s strength.

“I win.” Leonard whispered.

“In what sense did you win, Leonard?” Spock murmured, holding him in the final pose easily. “I led.”  
  
“That’s true.” Leonard said, smiling lazily up at him. “But we knocked my previous performance right outta the park.”  
  
Spock abruptly became aware of their surroundings. He straightened, lifting Leonard with him, setting him on his feet. The crew were clapping, loudly, far louder than for any of the other performances. They bowed, and finally their hands let go of each other. His hand tingled at the loss of Leonard’s hand on his, and he moved aside to let the crew admire and talk to him, strangely bereft.

 

* * *

 

 

Nyota spotted him, standing off to the side, watching Jim and Leonard laugh, their conversation somehow turning into a slow-dance.

“Are you alright, Spock?”

“I am fine.”  
  
“No, you’re not.” Nyota responded. Spock raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. “I only asked to open up the fact that I know something is wrong.” She paused, and he said nothing. “It’s because you just realised you like McCoy, isn’t it.”  
  
“I do not-“ Spock began to deny it, but found he could not truthfully finish his sentence. “Perhaps.”  
  
“He likes you too. Trust me.” Nyota gently took his wrist, pulling him to the dance floor. “Come on. Join the rest of us.”  
  
Nyota used her other hand to snag Sulu, and soon most of the crew were on the dance floor, swaying gently together. Spock found himself standing pressed against Nyota on his left, and Jim right in front of him. He felt a familiar, strong hand wrap around his right, and looked up to see Leonard grinning at him.  
  
“Hey. You ran off.” He commented. “I’m glad you came back.” He stroked his thumb gently across Spock’s palm. His thoughts were incandescent in his mind, projecting an exasperated, deep affection.  
  
“As am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was written all in one hit, and is unedited. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to get it all out! It was stuck in my head, it's 2am and I couldn't sleep until this was done!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! I have such a huge soft-spot for Spones, for dancing, for Bones being Extra...so...yeah!
> 
> As ever, feeding me comments and kudos will help preserve and sustain my dark soul!! Thanks for reading my darlin's <3


End file.
